


Walking in Your Sleep

by Kita_the_Spaz



Category: Welcome to Hell - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angel Jonathan, Fluff, M/M, Sleepwalking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 03:57:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5613154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kita_the_Spaz/pseuds/Kita_the_Spaz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Never in his life (or after it), had Jonathan Combs considered that angelic beings might need hazard pay. But his latest assignment was making him seriously consider asking Providence for it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Walking in Your Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> This is a birthday present for the adorable tweek-sowachowski on tumblr. They requested a AU Jonathan/Angel fic based on the headcanon they and poisonjabs have created, with Jonathan as a long-suffering guardian angel to a reckless Sock.

Never in his life (or after it), had Jonathan Combs considered that angelic beings might need hazard pay. But his latest assignment was making him seriously consider asking Providence for it. If his heart was still beating, Jonathan thought he would have had a heart attack five times over in the mere three weeks he’d been assigned to his newest project. 

Providence had told him that Napoleon Maxwell Sowachowski _‘Call me Sock!’_ needed a little bit of guidance in his life. Jonathan thought he needed a straightjacket... and possibly a muzzle.

Sock had little to no regard for his own life, taking risks an extreme sportsman would have thought too dangerous. Jonathan had once fished his charge out of a flood-swollen river, because Sock had seen “something shiny!” He had rescued Sock out of the delicate branches at the top of very, very tall trees several times over, simply because Sock had been chasing after some poor squirrel. Sock gleefully played with dogs anyone in their right mind would avoid.He darted after animals with casual disregard for anything like traffic.

Just this morning, he had pulled Sock out of a situation that had reminded Jonathan quite viscerally of his own accidental death, leaving the angel shaken and for the first time ever, yelling furiously at his charge. 

Sock had taken it hard, eyes welling up and ever-present smile gone without a trace. He’d spent the rest of the day walking on eggshells around Jonathan. 

It had taken Jonathan until nightfall to calm himself. He knew he’d overreacted, simply because of the similarities to his own death, and needed to apologize. Sock made it hard, though, by avoiding Jonathan when he could (Jonathan had no desire to follow the boy into the bathroom after all) and refusing to look or speak to him when he could not avoid him.

Jonathan watched sullenly as Sock prepared for bed, studiously ignoring him. Sock wished his parents a good night and crawled into his bed, turning his back to Jonathan. He held himself so still, Jonathan knew he was feigning sleep.

Sighing, the angel slid into the wall seamlessly, poking his head and shoulders out of the area of the drywall Sock lay facing. “Look,” Jonathan said quietly. “I’m sorry I yelled. I didn’t mean to. I was startled and scared that I wouldn’t reach you in time.”

Sock’s squinched-shut eyes eased and he peeped at Jonathan through thick lashes. “I knew you would,” he whispered with a confidence Jonathan wished he felt. “You haven’t let me down yet.”

Jonathan felt some of the tension in his chest ease. “Yeah, I’ll try not to,” he told his charge. “Sometimes it’s a lot closer than I like, like this morning. It reminded me of things I’d rather not remember and I barely made it to you in time.”

Sock shifted and propped his head up on one fist, green eyes shining with interest in the dim light of of the small night light. “Was it the way you died? Mom always says that guardian angels were human once, people who died and chose to look out for others afterwards. Is that how it is?”

Jonathan quirked a wry smile. “Pretty similar, yeah.” He deliberately said no more. Let Sock interpret his answer whichever way he wanted.

Sock frowned and held out his hand, loosely curled into a fist. “Sorry,” he intoned solemnly. “I won’t do that again.”

Jonathan felt his lips stretch into a grin and fistbumped Sock’s outstretched hand. “Deal. Now, if you could just manage to not keep nearly getting yourself killed...?”

Sock’s answering grin was a gleam of white teeth. “I’m not trying to,” he rebutted. “I just keep finding myself in situations like that.”

Jonathan snorted softly. “How about finding your way into a few less of them?”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Eventually weariness claimed Sock and his eyes drifted closed. His breathing deepened and Jonathan felt like breathing a sigh of relief of his own. Sock was wearying and worrying and troubling and a whole lot of other _‘-ings,’_ but under it all he was a good guy. More than mildly crazy and a bit too fascinated with killing small animals (Jonathan had managed to curb that habit, thankfully. Now if he could just keep him away from roadkill...) but nice and far too friendly for Jonathan’s peace of mind sometimes.

Jonathan sometimes thought if a serial killer happened upon Sock, Sock would happily jump right in and cheerily discuss the best ways to kill things. Maybe even demonstrate. Jonathan wouldn’t lay odds on which of them would survive the encounter if he weren’t looking out after the little psycho.

Jonathan was about to leave Sock to his slumber and head back home when Sock stirred and sat up. “Sock?”

Sock didn’t respond and Jonathan noted with concern that his eyes weren’t really even open, barely slitted and disturbingly empty. 

Sock turned and planted his feet on the floor, rising with an odd, boneless sort of grace. For all his awkwardness sometimes, when Sock was stalking small animals he moved with that same sort of assured elegance. Worried, Jonathan followed after his charge.

Sock padded down the hall to the bathroom and Jonathan felt relief fill him. Just a bathroom run, nothing to worry about.

Sock left the door open, and Jonathan twitched. He didn’t need ringside seats to a midnight piss. He reached out to close the door when he realized Sock wasn’t headed for the toilet. Sock had stopped at the sink and lifted an old leather case out of one of the drawers. He unzipped it with that same boneless ease, revealing an antique shaving kit, complete with soap receptacle and whisk. Holding place of pride was an old folding straight-edge razor. Sock picked it up and flicked it open with practiced skill.

Jonathan felt a chill go down his spine. Okay, not good. This was very much not good.

Sock turned away from the sink, razor held loosely in one hand. He padded past Jonathan and down the hall. He did not head for his own bedroom, but continued down the landing toward... Jonathan swallowed... his parent’s bedroom.

Flashing in front of Sock with a powerful sweep of his wings, Jonathan caught his wrist. “Sock!”

Sock hesitated, cocking his head curiously at the hand manacling his wrist. He tugged briefly at Jonathan’s restraining grip, his expression mildly curious, no more.

Jonathan didn’t dare let go. Something told him that if he did, it would be something he would regret for the rest of his afterlife.

Sock frowned and tugged harder on his trapped wrist.

“C’mon, Sock,” Jonathan pled softly. “let’s get you back to bed, shall we?”

Sock’s confused frown eased a little. “Jon-Jonathan...?” he mumbled softly.

“Yeah, it’s me.” Jonathan confirmed, not willing to relax just yet. “Wanna come back to bed now?”

To his surprise, the remnants of Sock’s scowl melted and a soft smile blossomed in its place. “Yeah...” he breathed, razor drooping in suddenly lax fingers.

Jonathan's mantled wings sagged in relief and he used his free hand to pluck the blade out of Sock’s grasp. He folded the blade and tucked it into a pocket, resolving to hide the damned thing someplace inaccessible to mortals. Tugging at Sock’s captured wrist, he turned to lead the boy back to his bedroom.

Sock didn’t follow, instead stretching both arms out and upwards, like he was waiting for Jonathan to lift him.

Jonathan had carried Sock a time or two before, mostly when he’d just plucked him out of the arms of danger, but Sock usually squirmed and kicked and fussed about not needing saving. This open, trusting expression was something new.

Jonathan hesitated only momentarily before stepping close and lifting Sock’s arms to rest around his neck. Folding his wings, he hefted the smaller boy in his arms. Sock burrowed into his hold, fingers curling into the collar of his gray hoodie.

Jonathan carried him back down the hall and into the dimly-lit confines of Sock’s bedroom, kicking the door shut behind them. He settled Sock onto the bed, easing the blanket up over him and trying vainly to tug Sock’s fingers free of his clothes. At last he had to resort to phasing himself free, shifting himself away from the dimension of reality and into the half-light between human world and heaven.

Sock frowned as his fingers lost their grip on Jonathan and a whine built up in his throat. He blinked fully awake, staring up a Jonathan with such a lost, confused expression that it was damned near heartbreaking. “J-Jonathan?” he wavered, reaching out for him.

Jonathan quickly phased back into full tangibility before Sock’s fingers could pass through where he should have been. “Right here.”

Sock’s hand clenched on his sleeve. “I had a weird dream,” he complained softly, lips pressed together in an unconscious little pout.

Jonathan frowned and settled lightly on the edge of Sock’s bed. He didn’t want to ask, but felt the need to. “Weird how? What did you dream about?”

Sock shivered and his fingers tightened on Jonathan’s sleeve. “They said I was crazy. They were going to make you go away.”

“Sock?” That lost expression was back in Sock’s eyes and Jonathan didn’t like it at all. “Calm down. I’m not going anywhere.”

Sock tucked himself down into a small ball. “Yes, you were. I don’t know how but they were going to take you away from me.”

Jonathan shifted closer, leaning over Sock. “Don’t be stupid. I’m your guardian angel. The only one who could ever make me leave would be my boss, and she won’t.”

Sock sniffled and then his eyes widened. “N-no... it wasn’t a dream!” A quaking hand pointed at the pocket of Jonathan’s hoodie, where the razor was peeping out. “Oh, god... it _was real!”_ He flailed, releasing Jonathan's sleeve and scooting back on the bed until he was pressed against the wall.

Jonathan caught Sock’s shaking hands. “Whoa, easy, dude. You didn’t do anything. You were sleepwalking, that’s all. You didn’t do anything. Look!” He freed one hand to pull out the razor. “No blood or anything. _Sock!_ Look at me!” Putting a hand under his chin, Jonathan forced Sock to meet his eyes. “It _was_ a dream. You took a little wander around and picked up the razor, but that’s it. You didn’t hurt yourself or anyone else.”

Sock slowly calmed. “I didn’t?”

Jonathan offered a wry smile. “Well, you nearly gave me another heart attack, but, no. You didn’t do anything. It was just a dream. A bad one, but still, only a dream.”

Gradually, every tensed muscle in Sock’s body relaxed and he slumped. “But what if it’s not? What if they do think I’m crazy?”

Jonathan reached out and tweaked his nose. “We’re all a little crazy. Don’t worry, I’ll be around to help you.”

Sock heaved a sigh, lips trembling. “You will?” He leaned his head sideways so that Jonathan’s fingers slid against his jawbone. 

Jonathan automatically cupped his hand around Sock’s cheek. “I will,” he promised, stretching his right wing out to drape it over Sock’s shoulders in a gesture of reassurance. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily. I’m watching out for you; protecting you...” he smiled. “Even from yourself, if necessary.”

Sock stroked his fingertips over the feathers of Jonathan’s outspread wing. “You promise?”

Jonathan sucked in a startled breath at the sensation. He’d never had any hands but his own on his pinions. “Y-yeah,” he managed. “Promise.”

Relaxing, Sock snugged himself into the curve of Jonathan’s wing. “Will you stay with me tonight, please? Make sure I don’t— don’t go anywhere?”

Jonathan caught his bottom lip between his teeth. Unspoken was the plea, _‘make sure my nightmare doesn’t become reality,’_ and he could not deny it. “Of course.”

Sock favored him with a bright smile and Jonathan wondered for a moment if he’d been played, but there was real relief in Sock’s lucent green eyes.

“Alright then!” Jonathan shook the thought off. “Back to bed then, you little weirdo.”

Sock pouted. “I’m not a weirdo.”

Jonathan pulled his wing back and tumbled Sock back down on his bed. “Oh, no no, we have established you are indeed a weirdo, but that’s not a bad thing. Never was.”

Sock squirmed back under the blanket. “You don’t think I’m crazy?”

Chortling, Jonathan tucked the blanket around him. “No more than anyone else in this crazy world.”

Sock finally smiled again, settling down into his nest of pillows and blankets. “Thank you, Jonathan.”

Jonathan nodded and started to rise.

Sock’s hand caught his arm, quick as a striking snake. “You said you’d stay!”

“I am,” Jonathan assured. “I’ll be here all night.”

Sock shook his head. “No, stay here with me; keep me from getting up again. I don’t— can’t trust myself not to.” He tugged hard on Jonathan’s arm. “Please? There’s plenty of room here for both of us and... it would make me feel better.” He fixed Jonathan with a hopeful look.

 _That little shit..._ Jonathan thought with a mix of admiration and incredulity. Sock was indeed playing him, but not in the way Jonathan had first thought. He was banking on Jonathan's guardian angel instincts to protect and comfort, using them to reassure himself. 

With Jonathan close to him, there was no way Sock could do anything like his nightmare had indicated.

Tucking his wings close to his back, Jonathan dropped on the bed in a careless sprawl. “Fine,” he groaned. “Whatever, just go back to sleep.”

Sock grinned and squirmed until he was flush against Jonathan's chest, neatly tucking himself into the curve of Jonathan’s body. He captured Jonathan’s arm and drew it over his waist, threading his fingers through Jonathan’s. “There!’ he declared triumphantly. “Now I can’t move without waking you.”

Jonathan huffed softly. “I don’t sleep.”

If anything, Sock’s grin widened. “Good. Then you can keep an eye on me all night.”

Jonathan scowled, but unfurled one wing and tucked it around himself and his newfound attachment. “You are going to make me regret this, aren’t you?”

Sock chuckled. “Nope,” he said, popping the ‘p.’ “I might make you enjoy it.”


End file.
